


Finding Warmth

by Diary



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, F/M, Family, Late Night Conversations, Love, POV Anne Stanhope, POV Female Character, Past Infidelity, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne and Edward come to a better place in their marriage. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Tudors.

_Well done, wife._

Looking down at the sleeping baby, Anne softly laughs.  

The baby briefly stirs but doesn’t wake, and she quickly walks away.

Right now, Edward is holding a feast for his boy, delivering alms and food to the poor, and talking to Cranmer about a baptism. She knows he’s putting on a show of good cheer, and if anyone asks why the name Thomas was chosen, he’ll give a plausible, easily accepted answer. He’ll certainly not explain her son is a bastard, conceived through an adulterous affair with her despised brother-in-law.

_Well done, wife._

…

There’s a portrait of young Jane in their apartment, and she feels sick whenever she looks at it.

…

“Do you ever think of Jane,” she asks.

Looking up from his food, Edward studies her for a long moment. “Of course,” he answers. “We all miss her.”

She bites back a sharp retort.

He’d never beat her, but if she pushes him far enough, he would set her aside. She knows herself well enough to know she’d fight (yet, she’s always thought Anne of Cleves the cleverest and strongest of the former queens), and she’s seen enough of his skill to know he’d likely win.

Sweet Jane worshipped her older brothers and doted on her. She was, perhaps, the happiest of everyone in both families when Edward and Anne wed. Largely Catholic, she nevertheless thought it right people read The Bible in their own tongue, and she told Anne once, perhaps, the marriage between the king and Queen Catherine was not true, but surely, somehow, Princess Mary was of legitimate birth.

She never knew how much Anne despised Tom or how cruel Anne herself could be.

She did know Edward had little time or patience for her (Jane).

…

Nightmares wake her, and she goes to Edward’s chambers.

“Anne?”

“Sleep,” she tells him.

He doesn’t listen, and waking fully, he sits up, lights a candle, and takes her in. “Are you ill?”

His cool hand against her forehead makes her realise how overheated she truly is.

“I had a night terror,” she admits.

After looking at her strangely, he gets up, wets a towel, and begins to wipe her down. “The baby?”

“The night wet nurse tends to him,” she reminds him.

He slips her nightdress off, hangs it near a window, and hands her the cup of boiled lemon water he keeps next to his bed. “Shall I summon someone or something for you?”

Sipping the drink, she shakes her head. “I’ll sleep here tonight.” Handing the cup back, she curls underneath the covers and wraps around a pillow.

He slips back underneath the covers and shifts a few times before settling. Once he does, she quickly falls asleep.

…

She starts following him when he’s ready to retire at night, and occasionally, he looks close to saying something, but he never does.

One night, he tells her, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I won’t be sleeping tonight,” and gives her an absent kiss on the cheek.

She tells two of the guards who guard his chambers no man but him is to enter, goes inside, and sleeps fretfully.

The next night, after they’ve gotten into bed, he doesn’t lie down. Wrapping his fingers around her wrist and looking down at her, he starts, “Anne-”

She wonders if he wants to do more than sleep and considers kissing him. She’s recovered enough from Thomas’s birth it wouldn’t be painful or uncomfortable, and while he’s not the best lover she’s had, he isn’t bad. If he’d been more interested in having her in his bed more often, there’s a chance she never would have had the other lovers.

The way he briefly looks away before forcing himself to look back tells her this isn’t about a desire for more.

If she had some idea what he wanted or needed to say, she’d say whatever would prod him into coming out with it, but she doesn’t.

Finally, he says, “If you told me someone hurt you, I would believe you. Even if it were my brother, even if it was Tom- I’d believe you. Or if it were someone else.”

Abruptly, she realises what conclusion her behaviour might lead him to, and unable to help it, she laughs.

Then, sitting up, she shakes her head.

His fingers stay around her wrist.

“Your brother isn’t a rapist, Edward. I’ve never made it a secret I don’t like him. I do love my son. When baby Thomas was conceived, I was- not myself. I was sad, angry, and lonely. He can be quite the charmer, your brother, and I let myself forget that I didn’t like or even trust him. Ever since the baby came, my moods have been heightened, and dreams are more clear and powerful. Having someone next to me helps.”

Nodding, he looks insultingly relieved.

Yet-

I can’t judge, she realises.

If her husband suddenly wanted to spend every night in her bed, she’d be irritated and blunt about it. She’d have no patience or sympathy for whatever caused him to seek such comfort.

Edward is unlikely to ever take a mistress or entertain male company in his bed, but there might be times he’d simply like to have his bed to himself. Moreover, normally a heavy sleeper herself, she wouldn’t know if she kept him awake.

Does she snore? Toss and turn? Talk in her sleep?

Before she can decide if she wants to ask, he’s let go of her wrist, blown out the candles, and is kissing her cheek. “Goodnight, wife.”

He lies down, and she lies down beside him.

…

When he tells her about the progress to France, he suggests, “Perhaps, we should get some sleeping maids for you.”

“Perhaps,” she agrees.

…

Before he leaves for France, she slips out of her nightdress, kisses him, and guides his hand down her body.

“Anne-”

“You’re not too tired,” she states. “Touch me, husband, and let me touch you.”

He does.

…

She has two sleeping maids attend her and guards standing outside her chambers at night.

Thomas continues to healthily grow, and his first word is, “Mama.”

When she walks him around the castle, she tells him about the portraits they come across. In their chambers, she sadly tells him, “This is Aunt Jane. She was a Queen, and she would have adored you.”

Every night, before the wet nurse takes him, she shows him a miniature of Edward. “This is your father, Thomas, the Duke of Somerset and Lord Protector to your cousin, Prince Edward. Since the prince was named after him, he thought it best you be named after his brother, your Uncle Tom. When a new letter from him comes, we’ll read it together.”

He always laughs and coos.

…

“Father,” Thomas shyly greets.

Looking softer than she’s ever seen him, Edward takes the baby from her arms. “Yes,” he agrees. “Aren’t you growing to be a strong, clever lad?”

…

“Now that the king has gotten his city, perhaps, he’ll be content for a while,” he tells her. “Reformism was spreading so fast in France- hopefully, this won’t stop it.”

From the bed, she looks over at where he’s writing at his desk. Nearby, Thomas sleeps soundly in his cot. Since he was weaned, he’s taken after her and become a sound sleeper.

“Tell me from your heart why you champion it,” she says. “We’ve never really talked about that.”

Glancing over, he appears to consider her words.

Then, coming over, he kisses Thomas and sits down on the bed. “For all he became a threat to us, I truly admired and respected Secretary Cromwell. Kings above all but God, fine, but everyone else, we’re all born nothing but human. Some are born to money or a respected family name or both, but what a person does is more important. If a person is smart, if they’re willing to work and sacrifice, they should have the chance, at least, to rise. I should like to see more such as Secretary Cromwell, and giving the common folk education is a good start.”

“When it comes to God- I truly believe people should find their own way to speak to Him. If lighting a candle makes a person feel good, so be it, but to say God judges them by whether they do or not is absurd. Giving money to a priest does nothing for the giver’s soul and much for the priest’s pocket.”

She chuckles.

He stares. “I’ve never made you laugh before. Or not like this.”

She reflects on the statement.

Growing up, she never dreamed of romance as some girls did. She knew most marriages between the higher classes were made of other things, and she simply hoped she’d gain a husband who she could tolerate and who would tolerate her.

In Edward, she’d gotten a wonderful sister, a sober man who, upon learning she was intelligent enough to understand and interested in hearing, told her of his schemes and the schemes of others and even listened to her in turn, and one who tolerated her so much the adulterous child of his brother’s seed is currently sleeping peacefully near her in his (Edward’s) bedchambers.

She supposes she wouldn’t have listened if anyone had tried to warn her of the loneliness.

Before her marriage, she was close to her mother and several servants. When she moved into the Seymour house, aside from her surprising, immediate closeness to Jane, she got along well with most of the rest of the family and with some of the neighbours.

“If this makes sense, I’m not sorry for the result, but I am sorry for what I did,” she tells him. “I love Thomas and would never wish him not born. I simply wish I hadn’t done what I did.”

He starts to say something, but shaking her head, she holds her hand up.

“I’m not completely blaming you. I’ve been so lonely since Jane died and Anne Askew was killed. I have no true friends at court. And no one could say you’ve been a bad husband, not even me, but- I could die tonight, and Thomas would cry for me until the pain lessened and age took away all memories. That’s all. You’d give a dignified funeral, wear black for a time, possibly use my death as an excuse for certain actions you wouldn’t be able to commit otherwise, and then, when the time was right, you’d remarry without a second thought.”

She looks away. “Perhaps, you think it weakness, and perhaps, in different circumstances, I would, too, but I yearn for someone who cares for me.”

He sighs, and his body is stiff when he puts his arms around her.

Finally, he quietly says, “I yearn for the same, too. Anne- I admire and respect you. You are a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman. I’m proud to have such a wife. But I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to show I care for you. I’ve tried to make it clear I enjoy your company. When it comes to our bed- I swear I don’t desire men or another woman. It’s just, for some, the desire for such things is rather infrequent.”

Feeling tears forming, she nods and closes her eyes. Reaching up to wipe them away, she turns to him and opens them. “Then, let’s try to stop being this way. Actions might be more important, but words are sometimes necessary, as well. Tell me you care for me. Kiss- Often, you only kiss me if others are around to see it.”

“In turn,” she continues, “you know I’ve never lied to you. I won’t go so far as to apologise, but Francis Bryan and the others- perhaps, I should have simply talked to you back then. For now, however, I promise you, as long as you try, I will remain faithful to our bed. It isn’t so much the act itself that I desired as it was the thrill of doing something fun and the attention I received and was able to give.”

He presses a kiss against her lips. “I’ll try,” he promises.

…

When Thomas is three, Edward asks, “Do you think it’s time we start trying to arrange a proper marriage for him?”

She looks over.

Thomas is sitting in his lap and messily eating from his plate. After the first time, Edward decided he’d wait to get properly dressed until after they were done breaking fast rather than having a servant feed Thomas.

“Yes,” she answers. “But nothing too binding until we can see if his potential bride will truly be Reformist.”

He nods.

Bracing herself, she adds, “And it’s too soon to tell, but you might soon find yourself seeking out another good marriage for his brother or sister.”

Dropping his spoon and causing a cry in Thomas, Edward looks up.

Biting her lip, she brings a hand to her stomach and repeats, “It’s too soon to tell. But yes, it’s possible.”

…

At night, he kisses her stomach and, after lying down, sets a gentle hand over it. “If it’s a boy, I want to name him John.”

She nods. “If it’s a girl, I want to name her Jane.”

He kisses her cheek. “This won’t change my love for Thomas. Whatever my brother once did, Thomas is my son. Our son. He’s my firstborn. For the good of the realm, I must place Edward above all, but in my heart, no one is more important to me than you and Thomas. And if a baby soon comes, her or him, too.”

Finding his face with her hand, she pulls him in for a kiss. “Thank you. You and Thomas and any children we might have are the most important in my heart, Edward.”

He wraps around her, and his breathing even out.

She remembers, _Well done, wife_ , and falls asleep knowing, if she does bring another child into the world, the uneasy coldness on both their parts won’t be there to greet the child the way it was for Thomas.


End file.
